


Jungle Creatures

by Oshun



Category: The Lion in Winter (1968)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/pseuds/Oshun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We're jungle creatures, Henry, and the dark is all around us. See them? In the corners, you can see the eyes.”  –The Lion in Winter, William Goldman.</p><p>The pairings, Philip/Richard and Philip/Geoffrey, are implied.</p><p>Thank you, Ignoble Bard, for the patient and generous Beta work. Also, many thanks to Russandol, Scarlet, Randy O., and Elfscribe for the nitpicks on the final draft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jungle Creatures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sphinxvictorian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxvictorian/gifts).



No lady’s maid opened the door when Philip knocked. Instead the queen’s own voice called out to him. “Come in. Come in.” Slim and elegant, clad in a wine-red velvet gown, she turned from the fire, which continued to burn cheerily enough behind her in the wide open hearth. She looked at him through narrowed cat eyes.

“Welcome, Majesté. Please do come in. I had hoped you would drop by. Let’s sit by the fire,” she said, gesturing toward two cushioned chairs. “This room is like a frozen hell.”

“Thank you, Madame. The entire castle is drafty. Hardly what I had expected of the most powerful King in Christendom. I had been warned. But I’d thought the primitiveness might have been exaggerated.”

“I do not believe you would let those charges of barbarity made by men who envy him mislead you. How do you _really_ find Henry?”

“Oh. He exceeds expectations. Formidable. Magnificent even, or especially, within the setting of this ruin.”

She gave a hearty belly laugh, not like a courtly lady at all. Like a confidant man. “Ruin? Chinon is no ruin. It is a working fortress, young man, not a dainty palace. I do agree that it is hardly what one might expect for the Christmas court of the richest King in Christendom. We are, however, quite secure here. Best remember he rules not only by his wits or heredity, but by the sword as well.”

She lifted a flagon and gestured toward one of the impressive bejeweled goblets placed upon the small table between them. “Hot spiced wine? So seasonal, don’t you think? Not to worry. I brought the wine with me. None of that swill that Henry endures. His lack of interest in its quality is not entirely an affectation either. He truly does not give a damn. But Henry is not the clod he pretends to be either.”

“Yes." He nodded. "Please, your grace.” A silent lady-in-waiting took the vessel from her, filling his cup first and then that of the queen.

“Thank you, Amée. You may leave us now.” She nodded to the young woman, with an kindly smile. “So, tell me, Philippe. Am I what _you_ expected?”

“Yes and no." He cocked his head to one side, thinking. "Of course, I had heard tales of your beauty.” He knew her to be sixty or near enough, but she possessed a pulchritude that, while it must have been breathtaking in her youth, still, despite her years, commanded appreciation. Her skin was flawless, eyes bright, cheekbones and jawline inviolate. Only a few wrinkles about the eyes and around the corners of her mouth hinted at her true age.

In the solar earlier with her husband and the rest of them, she had worn a headdress and wimple tightly covering her hair and throat. She hid nothing now. Only a soft veil draped, but did not hide, her hair. Her neck was not that of a girl, but she had no turkey wattles either. He had been told her hair was a brilliant auburn almost true red. She had made no effort to tint it, as some less self-assured noblewomen on the continent did. Yet there was no grey streaking it either. Even the color of her hair had faded gracefully; it shone a pale copper color almost blond in the light of the candles and the fire.

Her mannerisms were those of a woman who is sure of her beauty, but considers it only one of several useful assets. If Henry could be considered imposing and still a handsome man at fifty, he had met his match in her and it was no wonder that Philip's poor father had felt overwhelmed.

“I had imagined your beauty to be of a more voluptuous sort, gone to seed by now perhaps." They both snorted at that. "But, no. Your beauty, my queen, is of the sort that age cannot touch.”

Throwing back her head in a hearty guffaw, she said, “Now you _are_ flattering me. You may prefer men, but you do know how to court a woman. So, tell me, young man. What did your father say of me? More likely he did not speak of me at all. What have you heard?”

No need to be surprised that particular personal detail had reached her. It was more or less an open secret.

“No, he did not speak to me of you often.” For that matter, he thought, with chagrin, he rarely spoke to _me_ at all. From what he had seen of Henry and Eleanor’s brood so far, whatever else their problems might be as a family, they appeared to engage in a great deal of talking. “I did hear it said of him that he had found you wicked. Godless, wicked, and dangerous, I believe.”

Her smile revealed honest mirth and no small amount of gratification. “If he thought that, which I doubt he ever did entirely, he would have been right. Poor man. Disappointed, I believe would be more to the point. I did want to love him. But he didn't make that easy.” She sighed and shook her head, still smiling, but a softer smile colored with a hint of nostalgia. “Yet it _was_ a love match, you know?”

He laughed aloud at that. “That was not among the things I heard.”

“Indeed. I was but a girl. A girl who believed she knew her worth, terrified of being abducted by some ancient hairy beast of a baron. They suggested I consider the heir to the throne of France and I reflected that he was not beneath me.” She studied his face and gave him an admonishing smile. “Don’t tell me I had no choice! I _thought_ I did, and that is what counts. In any case, I saw him and found him to be a sweet-looking boy, who appeared intelligent enough. Those illusions did not last past his adolescence. But, by then, I had discovered I was not half the politician that I had thought I was. Few fifteen-year old girls are—not even amongst the fewer still who dare to think they even _have_ a brain.”

She did love to hear herself talk and was entertaining enough that he could smile and nod interminably with no discomfort at all. If one could allow another to prattle on long enough, eventually they would reveal more than they intended.

With a wistful sigh, she paused. He sought to give her the encouragement she needed to continue. “I was told,” he said, “not by my father but by others, that you destroyed his self-confidence. ‘Emasculated him’ was the term I heard used.”

“I believe his confidence had been taken from him, if he ever had any, long before he met me. And did _you_ believe them?”

“I suspected that he did not need you for that, Madame. Having met you, I can see how he might have even convinced himself of it though. But look at Henry! He is living proof of the slanderous nature of that accusation.”

Ah, he had succeeded in disarming her after all. Her entire visage brightened and she lifted her chin in approval, still commanding, but not beyond the need for admiration. This sophisticated and regal woman had caused his father to pale by comparison. Louis had not been an unintelligent man, but nothing in his training or experience had equipped him to deal with this kind of woman—actually, she was one of a kind, Philip judged.

Determining that he must remain alert around the lady, he sipped his wine slowly. She knew her grapes. The spices and dried fruit had been skillfully added to enhance a good wine, not to mask a lesser one. “The toddy is excellent and . . .”

She interrupted him in mid-sentence. “May we speak frankly, Philippe?” Her tone rang blunt and manly in contrast to her previous demeanor. “My Richard does not chase boys. Only the cleverest or the most debauched are able to entrap him. Which were you, Philippe?” There it was again, ‘Philippe.’ He had not suffered Henry calling him ‘ _boy_ ,’ but was forced to tolerate the use of his given name by her.

“Why, he was my first!” He had tried to sound surprised and guileless, but could not hold back a self-satisfied grin at his own effrontery. His cursed vanity would trip him up if he were not vigilant.

“That clever, were you? Well, you could have done worse. I trust he was tender enough with you that first time. And you were never the least bit smitten? My favorite son is a fine figure of a man, with knightly sensibilities and the courage of a lion.”

“I did not say I was not smitten. I’d never try to deny his more admirable characteristics. And I have excellent judgment.”

“Then you will not be surprised to learn that he told me all about you?”

He was taken aback, but mastered his features. There was another angle to consider. Richard was more honest with his mother than he had surmised. “And, am I what you expected?”

“You might be exactly what I expected, but you are not at all what he told me to expect.”

“Please share with me, Madame,” he drawled, insincere in a show of interest. He needed to know, but he did not relish the hearing of it. “I am filled with suspense.”

“Liar!” She chuckled, enjoying the game and her wine. “He said you were a beautiful boy, loving, affectionate, and honorable, with all of the qualifications to make you a fine leader. I see a wily, comely young man, overconfident perhaps, not necessarily a monster--yet. Mayhap someone with whom one could negotiate, if one kept one’s wits about one. But I see nothing of that sensitive, principled boy in you.”

“Ah, but he sees it. He still loves me, you know.” That time he held back the smirk.

“He well may do so. But he is not stupid either, Philippe. And he intends to be King of England and to hold onto every morsel of land that his father has won.”

He bristled involuntarily. She was good at this. However, her weapon was a crude one: apparent truth. Or did the ostensible truth cover a deeper game?

“I will take your advice to heart, Madame.”

She had noticed that she had drawn blood and carelessly pressed her advantage. “Do not underestimate either Richard _or_ Geoffrey.”

Her boundless arrogance had led her to give him useful information. He would watch Geoffrey—the quiet, insightful son. He had not realized the value of that particular player. Now there was an attractive man.


End file.
